


mothers

by storyskein



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Family Feels, Family Issues, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Motherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyskein/pseuds/storyskein
Summary: Clarke and Abby finally have a chance to talk.





	mothers

_There ain't a mother with a heart less than black and blue_

_When they hold 'em to the light, you can see right through_

_\--Thomas County Law by Iron & Wine_

“You should go see your mother,” Diyoza said in her clipped cadence. Diyoza had set up the pergola as a kind of place to keep court, and Clarke couldn’t blame her. It had been one of her favorite places, too. She wondered if when this was all over if it would still be here, if it could still be the same. The solace of Eden, the magic of it, had been broken. But if the Valley had taught her anything, it was that mostly anything could be healed. Mostly, anyway. 

Something in Diyoza’s tone caught Clarke. A slight smirking, a knowing that Diyoza had the upper hand.

“Something I should know?” Clarke replied mildly, meeting the move by taking the bottle of Tequila from the table and pouring herself another shot. 

Diyoza looked on blandly, and Clarke couldn’t help but wonder if the smirk turned into genuine respect somewhere in those eyes. Maybe, maybe not. Didn’t matter. Now they were tenuous allies, no matter what. 

Diyoza took a second to watch Clarke knock back the shot without wincing. “Did that better than your what--step dad?” 

Clarke grinned, amused, seeing the game for what it was. “My mother’s boyfriend, I suppose. I can’t even imagine Kane taking a shot, too dignified.” What would throw this woman off? Clarke suddenly desperately wanted to know. “He executed my father, you know. On the Ark.” 

Diyoza’s eyebrow merely raised. “Sounds like a dramatic way to get him out of the picture.” 

Clarke laughed, didn’t know why. It shouldn’t be funny; it was about her dad, after all. But god. All of this was so absurd, so fast, and she appreciated a good dose of gallows humor to keep it real. “Very. Execute the father, send the daughter down to an irradiated planet.” 

And if a touch of bitterness still crept into her voice, well. Sometimes seven years was a long time. Sometimes it wasn’t. 

Diyoza waited a beat and seemed to relax a little, like she was enjoying Clarke’s company. And maybe gave herself away too much in those few seconds, because Clarke saw her hand stray to midsection, saw, at once, the taut, rounded skin under the shirt. 

As soon as it happened, Diyoza knew Clarke noticed, and shot her a razor sharp look. 

“He was a mess,” Diyoza confirmed, that original cutting observation back in her voice. “Like your mother.” Diyoza stood, this time grabbing the tequila bottle. “Go see her, like I said.” 

Clarke nodded, filing _that_ information away for later use. She shrugged her jacket back on slowly. 

“You should go see her too,” Clarke said over her shoulder as she walked away. 

*

Clarke knocked once as a courtesy before opening the door to her own house. She took a moment to pause, close her eyes, breathe it in. But the smell wasn’t the same, and for some reason, after it all, that was what brought tears to her eyes. The flowers, the slight acrid smell of new drying paper, the wood, the incense she and Madi had made was now punctuated by the smell of sick-sweat and alcohol. 

_Nothing airing out can’t fix..._ But the _once it was all over_ got stuck in her mind this time. 

She tried not to lie to herself anymore. 

“Mom?” She called out instead, burying the thought. 

There was a stirring in the corner, and Abby rose from Madi’s bed. 

“Clarke!” Abby gasped, standing immediately. But instead of rushing over, Abby swayed, once, twice. 

“Mom!” Clarke ran to her, steadied her with her arms and helped her sit back down on the edge of the bed. Clarke moved some papers and sat next to her, their knees touching. Shit, what did Diyoza know? What did Jackson or Kane know, for that matter? 

Suddenly, anger blossomed in her chest, followed quickly by dread. Goddamnit, all of them keeping the information about what the fuck was going on made her want to smack all of them. 

Clarke tucked her mother’s hair behind her ear--silver gray now, Clarke noted. “Mom, what is it? What’s going on?” 

Abby shook her head, and her eyes darted anywhere else but Clarke’s face. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Clarke took her mother’s hands, so frail feeling in her own now. “I won’t make you tell me,” she said, and it took all her strength to do so. If Abby didn’t want to confide in her, fine. But. “But I will find out.” 

Abby nodded once, sighed, the fight going out of her tense shoulders. She and Clarke sat like that for a long while, holding hands, foreheads touching. Clarke suddenly knew what Abby needed, and it wasn’t Clarke the daughter she felt she needed to protect. It was someone that Abby could talk to, someone who would understand. 

Just like that, the interim years and experiences shifted their relationship. Abby needed a friend, not a daughter. 

Clarke looked into the shaft of sunlight and the swirling dust motes beyond her mother, breathed into the old memories that she kept locked away. When it was just her and Madi, she couldn’t dwell. But maybe now--maybe now she needed her mother, and a friend, to hear it. 

“About two months after Praimfaya, I tried to kill myself,” Clarke began. 

Abby inhaled sharpy, sitting back. “Clarke, I--”

“No, it’s okay.” Clarke gave her a smile, one that trembled, and squeezed her hand. “It’s...it was a long time ago now. But I want to tell you, okay?” 

Abby shut her eyes and a single tear slipped down her cheek. “We heard you knocking, you know.” Guilt made her voice wretched. 

“I figured.” Clarke brushed the tear away, realizing that she had one tracking down her own cheek. “I was pretty loud.” 

Abby cracked a small smile at that. “Determined. And Kane and I--we tried to get to you. But. That was the day we found out that the bunker wouldn’t open.” 

“Then one of the worst days of both of our lives,” Clarke said. “But it wasn’t the day I lost hope.” 

“What happened?” Abby asked softly, the guilt and shame starting to be replaced by curiosity. It was enough that Clarke latched on to it. 

“I left Polis and traveled. Far as I could. Any place that seemed like it might have water, or food, or something. Then a sandstorm killed the Rover, so I left it, started walking.” Clarke swallowed thickly, still able to feel the burns on her face, the heat in her body. How it felt like she wasn’t even a _self_ anymore, that it was just her, the sand, the burning. 

“But eventually...eventually, it was over. I knew it. There was no water. No food. No one. I fell over in the sand, and when I woke up, a vulture was eating at a wound.” 

“Ew, gross,” Abby smiled. 

Clarke grinned, too. “It was pretty gross. But it was hope, you know? And then the I followed the vulture over a hill and...nothing. Nothing but desert. So that was when I knew it was over. I screamed at the sky, about everything.” Clarke startled herself with that admission, like she was divulging too much. But Abby nodded to go on, stroking her thumb across Clarke’s knuckles in a gesture of comfort. “I had a gun, put it to my head. And then the vulture circled back around...and lead me over another sand dune, in the opposite direction.” 

Clarke closed her eyes. Unexpectedly the emotions of that moment, something she had never revisited, flooded over her. The utter disbelief, the relief, at seeing green. Thinking for a solid five minutes she must have pulled the trigger and this was the afterlife. How a cool breeze, scented with pine and moss, greeted her, and she started the long descent into the valley. 

It was a story she kept from Madi, how utterly desperate that moment was. How her finger was on the trigger, how hope seemed lost. How utterly alone she had been. If she had to tell Madi that, then she might also have to tell her--or Madi might guess--how sad she still sometimes had felt. And that was not Madi’s burden to bear. 

Tears fell down Clarke’s cheek and onto her chest. Abby pulled her in close, rocking her as she sobbed, as something cracked in Clarke and the six years finally were over. They had crossed the threshold from the liminal. 

Clarke straightened after several moments and did the laugh of those who feel overexposed. But Abby looked at her not only with love, but with comfort. Some of the lines on her forehead had lessened. 

“Anyway,” Clarke said, plucking at her leggings. “I met Madi not long after. The first two winters were--well.” Clarke shivered. “Another story for another time, maybe. But they were bad. But then Madi and I--we got better at surviving together, living together?” Clarke looked over at her mother at that, trying to determine how explicit she should be. But she felt that it couldn’t hurt to take her mom’s hand and say, “We can do this together, mom. Whatever it is.” 

Abby took a breath, looked at Clarke and then looked away. “It’s pills, Clarke.” 

“Pills?”

“I--I have to take them. I can’t--not take them and function.” Abby licked her lips. “I’m addicted, Clarke.” 

The information hit Clarke like a blow to the guts. She took a deep breath, remembered that she wanted to know, and only in knowing could she help. “I assume Kane--everyone--knows?’

Abby flushed hard at that. “Yes. I had hoped that by the time we met again, I would be better. That it all would be better,” Abby’s voice broke. “I am so sorry.” 

“No, Mom.” Clarke stroked Abby’s face. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Clarke pulled Abby in, felt their roles shift once more. Mother, daughter, friend, support, who knew what they were. What it would fall to. What her mom needed right now, though, was her--and Clarke suddenly knew that with certainty. 

The moment was pierced with a high, sharp laugh, with the sound of Murphy shouting something at Madi. The truce had provided a temporary detente for them all, but the fighting would start up again, and soon. 

Best to take advantage. 

Clarke stood. “Come on, Mom. I have some place I want to show you. And I want you to meet your granddaughter.” 

*

Madi lead them to the springs, peppering an amused Abby with questions and remarks, making her confirm stories of the castle in the sky, of Grandpa Jake and Grandpa Kane. 

They shucked their clothes, leaving only tanks and underpants on, all three of them diving into the cool, clear water. When they had their fill, they sat on sun warmed rocks, basking in the dappled sunlight. Abby seemed at peace, even easy, Clarke thought, as Madi’s questions turned to tall tales of her and Clarke and the Green Place. 

Neither Madi nor Abby noticed when their little bubble of solitude had been pierced. And maybe that wasn’t even the right word. More like another bubble grazed theirs. 

Clarke looked over her shoulder to see Diyoza at the far treeline, observing them, a thoughtful and--if Clarke was being fanciful, maybe--wistful expression on her face. 


End file.
